Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
DISCLAIMER: ALL CHARACTERS HEREIN ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18. I do not condone any abuse of any kind IRL, and everything herein is just fantasy. Do not attempt to re-enact anything you read here. All BDSM activities should be Safe, Sane and Consensual. What I describe in my stories is varying degrees of abuse which make for wonderful fantasies, but would in reality be awful. To quote the wonderful Gigglinggoblin: Real-life con-noncon requires a lot of trust, safewords, and other things a fantasy can fudge a little. Enjoy the kink responsibly, and enjoy the story! If you feel inclined, please get in touch, I'd love to talk about my writing or any related kink stuff!
Summary: Aliens arrive on Earth, and promise world peace, and end to all problems, and more. Also, they're ten feet tall Goddesses who communicate telepathically. What could go wrong? They say all they want is for humanity to trust them and love them, and to care for man... but maybe their idea of love isn't quite the same as ours.
Contains: F/m, FF/m, FF/f, FFF/f, tickling, feet, aliens, huge mommy doms, like seriously ten feet tall absolute units of women, breastfeeding.
DARK THEMES: Brainwashing, gaslighting, end of the world, memory manipulation, ominous consequences, interrogation, trickery, rape, mind-rape, near-infantilisation, really really dark at the end.
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"Taylor, would you like to be fed?"
The voice - her voice - came through a device built into the wall above the door. A gentle glow accompanied it, warm and reassuring. Taylor, however, merely clenched his fingers into the effortlessly soft bedding he lay upon and turned to face the wall. Every wall in the room, the floor, and even the ceiling was a soft baby blue, and sank gently under touch. That's what his world had become: all soft edges and rounded corners. They had done that...slowly methodically in a way that was too gentle to notice until...
"No..." he murmured softly, but it was a lie.
"Are you sure?" The voice came again, rolling as if off the tongue. "You sound awfully thirsty..."
Her voice was like velvet; honey trickling into the ear, just as the milk of their kindness had dripped down the throat of man... yet it was a poison, a slow, cruel kind that had paralysed our defences, and turned us into the perfect vessels for their twisted form of love to take hold of.
The promise of an end to his thirst made his body throb with need, and yet...
Taylor could only double over in bed as his stomach groaned at the thought of drinking, and he buried his face into the sheets to silence himself. Yet that only brought the already heady scent of his bedding into overpowering closeness, and he shuddered at the sudden influx of such a delightful - and powerful - aroma. That was their method, to subtly surround you with an imperceptible web of temptation that by design kept you from noticing you were in it until it was far too late to escape.
"Very well," came her voice once more, softer, sounding almost disappointed, yet underlined by a confident certainty which only her kind could have apperceived. "I'm sure you'll be thirsty soon... in fact, you'll beg me for it."
He winced, knowing she was right.
"W-what time is it?" He stammered out, as if trying to pretend he was still just a passenger, and still held some authority over his own fate - even if such fantasies were as artificial as the toys he was given to preserve the veneer of independence left to him.
"Oh, don't be silly Taylor," she replied, practically gushing at the opportunity to so sweetly condescend to him, "in space there is no time, and on board our vessels we go by the schedule that fits your personal biology. There is no chronology that can be calibrated!"
Biting his lip, and trying not to squirm too much under the silken soft sheets which incessantly rubbed against every inch of his now overly-sensitive body, he tried to ignore her smug, motherly hauteur even as every word of it buried itself into his mind and its implications dug much deeper.
"No," he insisted, despite himself, "on Earth."
"Awww, sweet thing, are you homesick? We're going to your new home. You'll soon forget about anything from before."
Her words stung him deeply, as he privately wondered just how much he could still remember, how many of his memories were still real. Now, as always, when he tried to recall events from before a mild pain built in the back of his mind, until it became too hard to focus.
He whined as the pain scattered his thoughts once more, and in so doing sounded all the petulant child she loved to see him as, and he cursed himself for it. Everything he did fed into their narrative. There was no way out of it.
No escape.
"Back on Earth, what time is it?"
"About 12 noon." She said at last, evidently having relished tormenting him for so long, and at last the gentle light went out.
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